A Saturday afternoon like any other
by Dendey
Summary: It's about how Hogwarts very own potions master spends his Saturday afternoons, before and after Voldemorts defeat. Not HBP compatible!The rating is purely for the nonexisting wardrobe of one Severus Snape! Also this story contains a bath tub...


_Disclaimer:_ Harry Potter does not, I stress **NOT**, belong to me, but to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and various others.

_A/N_: Hey folks! This is meant to be a humorous piece of fanfiction, so please don't sue me for Snape being as OOC as he is...it's purely his fault, seeing as he's quite incompatible with humor in his original state of mind...if you should happen to disagree with that opinion of mine you might want to state so in a little review!

_Spoilers_: _**NOT HBP COMPATIBLE**_!!!

**A Saturday afternoon like any other**

It was a Saturday afternoon like any other. He was lounging in his comfy armchair in front of his fireplace and reading the last issue of 'potions, every week a new fascination'. Of course Severus had already read the issue about five times since its release last Sunday, but after all that didn't keep him from re-reading that last article just one more time...

Half an hour later Severus was so relaxed that he deemed himself ready for the apocalypse. Surely the aurors were already on their way, but seeing as there was something specific that he did every Saturday afternoon he wouldn't dream to let himself be distracted by anything that could delay or god forbid even keep him from doing so, no matter what had been yesterday...

Severus rose from his comfortable position in the armchair and made his way into the bathroom of his privat quarters at Hogwarts to take a last bath before they would march him off.

Yesterday Harry Potter had finally succeeded to kill Lord Voldemort alias The Dark Lord alias Tom Marvolo Riddle. Unbelievable but true, the magical community but also the muggle world was finally free again, free to live how they wanted to, without having to fear the rage of a tyrant.

Severus was sure to end up in Azkaban. He wouldn't struggle nor resist. He had already decided to turn himself in to the ministry out of his own free will, but Albus Dumbledore flat out refused to let him leave Hogwarts...he wasn't even allowed to go into the forbidden forest anymore, no instead of him Pomodora Sprout had to search for his ingredients. Concerning that it had to be mentioned that the questionable help of the grounds keeper should guarantee her safety in the forest...while everyone knew that Rubeus Hagrid could call himself lucky if he made it out of the forest with just a dozen dark curses sticking to his person. After their first forest-trip it had been nearly three dozen and Filius Flitwick had a lot of work to do, dissipating Pomodora's boiling anger and it's results. Intrinsically Severus had absolutely nothing against the fact that Pomodora had to search for his plants, he merely mourned the fact that he couldn't watch the show of how she taught that ex-Gryffindor one vital lesson after the other live.

After he'd finally filled the tub with enough well temperatured water, he began to strip down.

"When do you think they'll be here?", he questioned the black pair of eyes that seemed to follow his every move.

Right on cue an owl scratched at the bathroom window, so Severus had to open it to retrieve his letter. She did not want to enter into the room, but opted to just fly back to where ever she came from. Sighing resignedly he opened the rather official seeming letter to read it right before his relaxation bath.

PROBATION OBLIGATIONS

For: Professor Severus S. Snape

hand yourself in voluntarily;

or

give up your profession,

instantly;

or

wash your hair,

thoroughly;

or

He didn't even get to read any farther, seeing as the first few suggestions had already flared his temper, especially the last one was unheard of! Cursing as if there would be no tomorrow he rumpled the paper up into a ball like shape and intended to let it drown in the sink, accompanied by a very loud exclamation of 'shitty probation obligations', when the next owl announced it's arrival with a loud scratching noise on the bathroom window. Obediently he made his way to the window and received another official looking envelop, which he again prefered to read before his bath.

Dear Severus,

please do me the favor and stick with at least one of my directives.

Otherwise you would regrettably be leaving me no other option.

With kind regards

Sybill Trelawney

Minister of Magic

That defiantly made a lot of things explain themselfes! For instance the absurd probation obligations...

"I never understood how she made minister anyway! But hey! If that's all that's keeping me out of Azkaban...", he shook his head uncomprehending. He rolled the letter back up and placed it onto the sink, without even glancing at the rumpled piece of parchment lying miserably in the sink, after all he had a reputation to uphold against that dark pair of eyes.

The instant he wanted to climb into the tub, after he'd relieved himself of his last piece of clothing, a little piece of parchment materialized in his right hand and he found himself obliged to redirect his attention, postponing his bath once more.

Severus,

please note obligation number 3.

Love always

Albus

"And again Albus knows more than we do...", he informed his still silent interlocutor angrily as well as resigned.

The small note too was placed, neatly folded, next to the rolled up parchment on the edge of the sink, when the quiet of the potion masters Saturday afternoon was disturbed again. He had been aware that this Saturday afternoon would mark a turning point in his life, but he still found himself unnerved at the continuous disruptions.

"What is it this time?", he clamored and opened his bathroom window to a white snowy owl, which uncharacteristically actually entered the room through the window and positioned herself comfortably onto the tubs edge. But neither the parcel she was carrying on her left leg, nor the howler that was tied to her right leg came into actual contact with the water. Sighing Severus knelt down onto one knee in front of the seemingly familiar bird to receive first his package and then the howler from her.

Noticing the sender on the howler he remembered how he happened to know the owl and began to rant how utterly unfair the world could be.

"Potter already knows everything too? Great! I'm as always the last one to be informed!", but of course that didn't mean that he couldn't be curious, because he really wanted to know what was inside of that parcel.

Following the order in which everything had been delivered to him, he opened the parcel first and couldn't help himself. He could simply do nothing else but stare at the parcels contents in stunned silence. One thing was clear already, his next encounter with Potter would result in a case of death. If he'd be the corpse or the potter-brat, he wasn't yet sure of. Still looking at the four bottles in the parcel utterly shaken, Severus at first didn't register the howler beginning to smoulder, until the shock wave of it's explosion caused his bathroom window to fly shut. Now that the howler had finally retrieved Severus attention and had it focused all on his lonesome he could convey his message.

USE IT!!!

What? No more? That was all Potter had to say to him? Well...intrinsically it was all that was necessary, because the meaning of the words was as clear as the stars had been on the firmament last night. It still irked him that the brat thought he could give him an order. For a tiny little moment he thought that he could wake himself from this nightmare if he just pinched his arm hard enough, but it didn't have the desired effect, he still found himself on the cold tiles of his bathroom floor. Mentally searching for an escape route, a way out, anything, he looked up to the amber colored eyes that were studying him interestedly, searching for help. But instead of giving him an answer or at least an answer he wanted to hear, she just hopped down from the comfortable position in which she'd been perched on the edge of his tub and tapped one of the bigger bottles with her sharp beak.

"VANILLA!?", he bristled at the birds choice, but seeing as the owl continued to stare at him with her clear unwavering gaze she seemed to be set sure about her choice. In his head he repeated the proposition another time, but even with all the pro's he still wasn't sure that it was the right decision to make. Who, apart from a barmy old codger like that coot in front of him would prefer vanilla to a six-herbals-mixture after all? Potter of course, without question. But that still didn't help him. Searching for a respected second opinion he looked around the bathroom and came across the pair of black eyes that had followed his actions interestedly as well as quite bemusedly.

"What would you suggest?", he asked uncertainly.

But as always he didn't receive an answer from his counterpart. Resigned he finally let himself glide into the water and took one of the big and one of the smaller bottles out of the parcel. The black eyes noticed contentedly that he truly held those with the scent that had been suggested by the bird in his hands and gave him one of those few positive, warm, yes nearly proud looks. He ignored the owl, which left his bathroom in favor of his living room to search for an owl treat or a few crackers those would do as well, entirely and concentrated to unwind as well as to get going with his Saturday afternoon routine.

The Saturday afternoon finally belonged to him again, him alone!

Alright, him and the black-eyed rubber ducky.

Read more > Options > 


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